November 11, 2000: An Iowa win and three beers

 

Twenty years ago today—November 11, 2000—the Iowa football team upset Northwestern, upending the Wildcats’ Rose Bowl hopes.

And I got drunk for the first time.

It is a red-letter date in my personal history, one I have begun to casually acknowledge every year for the fun of it. Both events—Iowa’s win and me getting drunk for the first time—are inextricable, forever linked in my mind since they happened on the same day. It’s a good thing, too, because I can never remember the exact date, so the connection to the game makes it easy to look up.

Iowa’s win was momentous, but I don’t remember watching the game. I may have but don’t recall. It’s a shame if I didn’t, because it’s proven to be part of a turning point in the program’s history, the beginning of a return to prominence.

Having gone 1-10 in 1999, Kirk Ferentz’s first year as head coach, the 2000 Hawkeyes notched their first win of the season against Michigan State on a cold day in October—a game I attended but left early. (It was the last time I left a game early.) It was Ferentz’s first conference win and Iowa’s first Big Ten victory since 1998. The week before the Northwestern game, Iowa defeated Penn State on the road in double overtime. That was likely the turning point, a signature win to show the nation Iowa was on the way back, or at least no longer a conference doormat. And the Hawkeyes’ 27–17 win against Northwestern proved that the upset in Happy Valley was no fluke. That evening, I went to Mervgotti’s house to hang out, and we cheered the score whenever it popped up on ESPN’s BottomLine. (For some reason, I thought the score was more lopsided. Maybe that’s how it felt after the dismal 1999 season.)

Mervgotti’s parents were not home. Perhaps they were out of town, or out on the town celebrating the Hawks’ big win. Regardless, their absence made it possible for our friends to join us with a case of Busch.

Sweets bought it from his sister, who worked at a gas station. I don’t remember how much planning was involved that night, if drinking was the plan all along or if it was an opportunity we took, but I recall there being a moment of decision about what beer to get. There was hesitation from Mervgotti and I about Busch. Though I had very little experience with beer, I knew I did not want to drink Busch. “I can get something else,” I remember Sweets saying over the phone. But Busch it was, and I vividly remember Sweets entering Mervgotti’s house, carrying a 24-pack of Busch.

There were at least four of us, and we started drinking. I don’t remember much else about that night, but I remember I drank three beers. Though it wasn’t the first time I drank beer, it was the first time I drank enough to get drunk. I became loose, uncoordinated, and giddy, laughing at everything. I was feeling the effect of alcohol for the first time and was excited about it. I was getting drunk! I finally knew what it felt like.

Was I drunk? Thinking back now with all the drinking experience I have, I think I was pretty buzzed. I don’t think I was drunk, but maybe I was and am trying to make myself look good, not so irresponsible, especially given the fact I drove home, across town, when our gathering ended. (I think I had a midnight curfew at that point.) Not cool.

I was eighteen, a senior in high school. I had voted for the first time earlier that week. I was becoming an adult, or at least doing adult things as a teenager with much to learn and experience. Getting drunk that night is a first I recall fondly, part of an epic year in my life. It was the beginning of an era, the beginning of my adulthood.

It was also the sad end of an era, an era of innocence and harmless, healthy fun. Once my friends and I started drinking, we never went back. Just being together, hanging out, watching TV, playing video games, was no longer something we were interested in. We wanted to drink. Even now, 20 years later, we always imbibe when we gather (which has not been much since the pandemic started). The same seems true for most adults in my experience: we drink alcohol when we gather. We can’t just watch a football game or movie, or play video games, anymore. We have to watch or play and drink. I’m unsure why that is, why we need that social lubrication to enjoy ourselves, but it’s striking and sad to me. But also tasty.

For the record, I don’t like getting drunk. I like having a buzz but don’t like being drunk. I like staying in control, being the responsible one, making sure everyone is OK, which is why I watch what I drink, don’t drink too much. I don’t like feeling queasy or sick, or throwing up. Though it does not happen very often, I hate that feeling when I realize I’ve had too much to drink and will pay for it, when my equilibrium is delayed, my head feels like it’s bobbing up and down in the ocean, my mouth starts watering, and my stomach begins to churn. I don’t like hangovers, so I don’t invite them. I’ve found that with alcohol, along with many other things, less is better. It was something I had to learn, and the lessons began 20 years ago today.